


I walk the line, Comrade.

by AgentWhite



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Betrayal, Downfall, Gen, Resident Evil - Freeform, and generally few good times are had, days in the life of Jack Krauser, military life, no pairing stuff in the one, post Operation Javier, pre Resi 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-15 22:16:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9259865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentWhite/pseuds/AgentWhite
Summary: In the time following Operation Javier and his battle against the V-Complex alongside Leon, Jack Krauser finds the wound he sustained has continued to fester, gradually robbing his arm of all sensation. Between his XO, his doctor, and his own mind, he continues in hope a lifeline will present itself. Hope however can dwindle, and over time it can take much more away with it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Never let it show  
> The pain I've grown to know.  
> Cuz with all these things we do  
> It don't matter when I'm coming home to you  
> I reach towards the sky  
> I've said my goodbyes  
> My heart's always with you, now.
> 
> \- The Gunslinger

SOCOM Base, Sickbay  
July 2002 - 4:25pm.

The smell. He couldn't ignore the smell.

It wasn't even really a scent, in truth. It was the absence of it, that sterile, pristine air that feels like it's coating your insides in plastic with every breath. Breaths that Jack Krauser found himself taking more and more of the quicker his impatient heart ticked.

It had been two months since the conclusion of Operation: Javier. Though Jack was injured in the line of duty, the mission was a success, despite the original objective remaining in tatters. His wound: left arm pierced at the elbow by an organic, bone-like projectile. Upon returning home and receiving treatment from the EMTs, the soldier began to notice less and less feeling in his forearm, culminating in today's tests. Though his fingers were numb, he saw them tapping irritably on the desk as he awaited news. He was anxious, sweating, and relieved he was the only one in the room to have to acknowledge it. At the first click of the lock, Jack rose from his chair almost cornering his physician behind the swinging door.

"Well?"

"Please Mr Krauser, calm down. You've harassed enough of my staff over the past two days, you can wait until I've found my chair." She wasn't going to hide from a man she was intending to help.

Muttering obscenities under his breath, he let the doctor through to her desk. He didn't retake his seat as he leant down, and repeated himself.

"Well?"

The doctor sighed as though dealing with an unrelenting child, adjusting the eyeglasses slipping down her nose as she scanned through her report. "Going by our examinations and the Radiologists report, we have ruled out any foreign materials remaining in your arm. No sign of infection, no gangrenous tissue, no MRSA." She ran through the symptoms like it was her shopping list.

Jack's fingers gripped the table. "You sure your people know what to look for? I wasn't exactly shooting at a goddamn staph infection here."

"We have compared your tissue sample with every known virulent strain recorded since Raccoon City." She replied curtly, brushing her lengthy black hair behind her ears. "We are not amateurs, and we have higher clearance than you do."

Jack inhaled, and drew himself up to his full height. "So, nerve damage?"

"Essentially, yes." She said, drawing out a scan from his file. "Going by the entry wound and remaining scar tissue, the shot struck a nerve bundle in your elbow. That would be why you have lost your sense of touch in arm. However, it should also have rendered the arm uselessly paralysed, and yet you can still use it. Albeit clumsily" she added, reminding him of the numerous amount of broken handles and glasses the cleaning staff around the sickbay had been amassing. Jack brushed it off.

"How do I fix this, doc? I can't keep my wheels spinning here forever."

"This isn't something you fix, Jack." She spoke in an understanding tone for the first time since he had arrived at her office. "This is something that... Well it'll either get better or it won't." She began scribbling away on her clipboard. "I'm going to put you on a physiotherapy course as well as regular scans of the afflicted area, and see if that helps. But ultimately... I think it will be far healthier for you to accept that this may be how it is for now."

A silence fell across the office. Jack didn't move, just crossed his arms, teeth set behind his lips. He resisted every urge to loose his rage, it wouldn't get him anywhere, satisfying as it might have been to toss her little faux-wood desk through the window and give his fellow wounded a real surprise. Snatching the note from the doctor, his boots fell heavy with his footsteps out the door.

"Much appreciated, Doc."

The door slammed, wrenched shut with his failing arm. Jack heard the glass in its window crack. This time he didn't care. Whilst attendants around the sickbay were giving his obvious rage a wide berth, that wasn't the least of it. It was that little squirming doubt in the back of his head.

_You're a spent man. You're useless to them, and now they have the piece of paper proving it._

A low growl escaped his lips, hoping to drown out his disheartening thoughts. Tossing his prescription at the orderly as he left the sickbay, Jack made tracks for the barracks.

With all the years under his belt working for SOCOM, their base in northern Colorado had become the heart and home of Jack's entire life. He knew every hidey hole the newbies would take unscheduled smoke breaks in, the quickest paths to the practice range and helicopter LZ so you could sneak in the extra minutes nap on your morning alarm. Olive green was as vibrant as life got outside of the bar, but it was calming, settling. Now it looked surer and surer that it would be ripped away from him if he was not 'lucky' enough to get saddled with a desk job.

Still simmering, Jack slipped into his personal barracks. There he could lose his dignity in peace.


	2. Chapter 2

SOCOM Base, Practice Range  
August 2002 - 11am

Officially, Jack Krauser was not permitted to be on the firing range. Officially. But none of the rank and file were about to tell him to leave. He'd pulled enough asses out of the fire to earn his opportunity to blow off some steam. A preliminary physio session working on his crippled arm hadn't illuminated any new causes for its condition, and it was beginning to show more and more. While he still had control of the limb, Jack's skin was becoming whiter and whiter nearer the fingers, a certainly sign of lacking oxygen.

The lack of sensation was affecting him more and more. His hands were most comfortable wrapped around a gun, once upon a time. But now, whether supporting a rifle or pulling the trigger, his arm wasn't able to compensate for the recoil. One shot was perfect but sustained fire, three shot bursts, everything else trailed away from the target.

It was another mornings practice when the brass intruded on the range, staring daggers at the large man squeezing off rounds from an M16. When it became clear that obtuse throat-clearing wouldn't catch his attention...

"KRAUSER!"

Without shifting his posture or aim, Jack turned his eyes to the General. He wasn't a short man, but looked shorter when shouting at Jack's muscle bound figure. Five medals on his chest, straight backed and cutting the essential silhouette of a military brat finally living up to daddy's highest hopes.

"General Santiago. Good to see you on the range sharpening your skills." Jack knew he was in trouble either way, but hoped to play on the General's pride for his gambit to work.

"Disarm and desist, Major. You have been warned before."

"And I've ignored every single one, yes." He said, instantly field stripping his weapon with his good arm and laying it's pieces on the range counter. "Actually I was hoping one of these guys would rat me out to you, gives me a chance to talk to you in my field rather than you in your... Office." His voice dripped with confidence his heart lacked and his head had given up trying to silence.

Santiago was far from impressed. "So, insubordination and smarm is meant to convince me to put you back in the field?"

"Nope. This is." In a flash, Jack's sidearm was withdrawn, a heavy model Glock semi-auto, and with a single straight arm aiming he emptied the clip down the firing range.

The headpiece of the metal target was peppered with bullet marks. Rougher marksmanship than his peak but still 7 unquestionable kill shots from a 9 round magazine. "8 shots out of 10 grants a beat cop license to carry a firearm into the field. I imagine I could make an argument on that little stunt. Oh, hang on..." To drive his point home, he withdrew one of his shorter knives and with a flick of his arm, embedded the blade hilt-deep between the eyes of his unfortunate sheet-metal target. Some of the younger cadets couldn't help but slack their jaws in awe of the Major.

"Baby makes 8, General." He spoke. _It won't be enough_ spoke his silent worries.

Santiago took a breath, sucking air between his teeth. "We didn't teach you to shoot like a goddamn cowboy, Krauser. More than that, I _ordered_ you to stay off the range and let the physio do its work."

"But it's _not_ working, Sir, I'm losing more feeling every-"

"Shut. Up. Everyone! Clear out. Give me and the Major some room." No sooner had he let the air settle from his orders were the ranges occupants gone, save himself and the decorated serviceman before him.

With the cause for keeping his sturm up evacuated, Jack spoke more sincerely. "General, please, you know I'm better than half these men even with one hand out of action."

The major massaged his temples, growing weary with excuses. "It's not about you, Jack. It's not about this need to prove yourself or giving you a place to be let yourself be you. It's about the job, about protecting this country and your comrades."

The soldiers fist slammed on the counter, sending rifle parts clattering to the ground. "Then let me, for gods sake! Don't force me to rot in the barracks when the next godforsaken hellspawn is probably brewing a vat somewhere as we speak."

"There are agents all over the world doing this work, we are more than prepared for anything they throw at us."

Krauser resisted every urge to throw a right hook at his XO for the dismissive attitude. "Are you? I've read the reports from Rockfort. Had plenty of time to scrutinise the details too." The General froze. "Two prisoners had to handle that entire shitshow best they could until a single STARS operative could come clean up, all before a military response. Protecting this country? Prepared for anything? Don't make me laugh."

Santiago began turning a shade of puce. "How on Earth are you privy to confidential records that high above your clearance?"

"You have no idea the kinds of access to your system I have. And I know a damn sight more about these monsters than you ever will. Until you find one breathing down your neck, these boys have nothing on me, arm or no arm." He had played a little too much of his hand. Jack pushed past the worry they would trace back to his government source, he could worry about him later. He'd proved his point.

The General was glaring at him, under a thin veneer of sweat. They couldn't just lose an asset with this much understanding of how the world was actually working these days. Exactly what Jack was counting on.

He wiped his brow and turned towards the door. "Report to sickbay for physio. And a psyche evaluation." The second one confused the Major, though the General continued. "Maybe we can find a better role for you here. But you repeat anything you just said to me outside this room, or speak to me in _any_ tone but complete subordinance, I will drop your ass into Afghanistan with a peashooter and a toothpick and send your family my condolences along with that goddamn beret. Are we absolutely clear, _Lieutenant_?"

Demotion. Well he had expected some blowback but even the tentative 'maybe' he had tacked onto the punishment... that was more than Jack had walking into this little performance. That was enough to subside his dissatisfaction, keep him walking forwards rather than slipping into that uncertain abyss again. He would not fail.

"Crystal, Sir."


	3. Chapter 3

SOCOM Base, Jack Krauser's personal barracks  
September 2002, 8:32pm

It wasn't like him to be nervous.

Jack was restlessly overturning the mobile phone in his hand. Contraband wasn't easy to get into a SOCOM base let alone use whilst there, and the new cyber-security personnel were just as heavy handed as the General when doling out their punishments for "potential breaches of a classified network." Still, he'd calculated the risks. He wasn't looking to betray his country, just find out more about what was going on out there whilst he was confined to the base. That was how he had read and received files on the nature of the Rockfort incident: Through the man he was waiting for a call from on the other end of this phone.

Finally, the screen lit up. Before the first vibrations had finished, Krauser had already flipped open the phone, pressing it to his ear.

"That you?" He asked, slight strain in his voice. His buddies down at the bar would be laughing if they heard Jack Krauser nervous as a teenager on prom night answering the phone. Thankfully, the voice of a friend coming back through the airwaves was enough to swat those thoughts away.

"I'm the only person with this phone number, Jack." He could practically see the smirk on the pretty boys face. "Take a wild guess."

Krauser couldn't help a laugh. "Well, you and my mother, she'd have worried herself into her grave if I didn't. How're you keeping, Kennedy?"

Leon's sigh fuzzed up the connection. "I'm surviving. The bureau have me contracted to do some bodyguard work, nothing too fancy."

"They pulled you out of the field for that cushy crap?"

He was met with Leon's quiet chuckle. "I wouldn't say that, you don't know know _who_ I'm guarding. Still, at least I have the secret service as backup."

"Get out. You're protecting the President!?" Jack struggled to keep his voice low.

"Well, officially I'm an advisor on BOW's to his cabinet, not like he's got me on speed-dial." Jack heard the man shuffle. "Look, maybe I shouldn't have said anything, I know you're still stuck on base, I don't wanna sound like I'm rubbing it in."

Jack practically leapt at the chance to blow it off. "Bah, don't worry about it, comrade. Golden-boy Kennedy might get every opportunity, but he's good at remembering his friends, right?"

"I suppose compromising national security so you can have some bedtime reading does make me a pretty good friend." He couldn't figure out Leon's tone, though he sensed at least some joviality.

"I swear it won't come back to you. Besides, this G-Virus stuff... Completely different beast from that monster we fought in South America." At the mention, his arm tingled. As dull and useless as it was becoming, it seemed to at least resent the circumstances that made it so.

"Yeah, hard to say which of those evils is lesser. Especially after seeing what Javier turned into." It was strange, but Jack heard a nostalgic tone beneath the horror. That got his mind wandering to the only other person to pull out of that mess alive.

"Talking of Javier, what ended up happening to Manuela? Poor girl didn't deserve the lot she got out of this."

"She..." The pause was damning. He wouldn't like this one bit. "She's being detained at a research centre in Philly. Langley won't tell me anymore than that."

So he had been asking after her at least. "As a Guinea pig?" Leon said nothing. "It's been months Kennedy, and after seeing what Javier had done to keep her alive I'm not sure how much more surgery she can take." He grimaced at the thought of the girls bodies that Javier had sacrificed to keep his daughter alive.

"I know... I know. But she is still alive. I can confirm that much. She was pretty much symbiotic with the Veronica virus when we took down Javier. We will just have to hope." The news was a sigh of relief, if not a particularly heavy one. Manuela had lost her entire family to this virus and it still threatened to consume her whole. Could they do anything? Was death the kinder thing to her at this point? He'd kill to sit down and talk with her, much as he wasn't particularly a talker himself. Though considering the lengths he had gone to just to talk to Leon, he doubted he could ever wrangle that sort of meeting.

Leon cleared his throat before he continued "Look, brighter note, I have time off at the end of November. I can wrangle coming by your way around Thanksgiving time, maybe we could grab a few drinks?" Seemed a strange thing to propose out of the blue, but it's not like Jack would say no to any friendly company at the moment. "It'd be good for us both to reconnect in person, God knows these 'cushy' assholes won't give me the time of day."

"That'd be great, but it's Thanksgiving. Wouldn't you wanna spend it with family?"

"Oh I'd love to." Leon said, dryly. Krauser's memory suddenly caught up with him and cursed himself for even asking. "But Mom and Dad are long dead, and everyone else close to me has a tendency to get stuck in government custody."

Stuck in a olive drab base, it was easy to get absorbed in ones own issues. A failing arm, a career careening down the crapper, isolated from the people you care about. You forget that this life and life's impact on others has robbed them of just as much.

"I-I'm sorry, Leon, I should've thought, I-"

"It's okay, Jack, It's fine." Leon cut him off. "Besides, I'll flip that on you, wouldn't your mom like to see you?"

Jack regained his momentum, right back to shooting the breeze with a friend. "Ehhh, she's not a thanksgiving person. When she moved to the States, she read up on it and concluded the pilgrims were murdering jackasses. Exactly the kind of people her family left Germany to avoid. She'd probably keep me out of the house on principal." He ended with a chuckle, in part to assure that his mother did care and wasn't looking to ditch him. 

"So, we have ourselves a meeting?" He sounded hopeful. It was Jack's place to let him down.

"Tell me the bar, I'll meet you there, comrade." A genuine smile split Jack's face for the first time in months. He sensed the same sentiment on the other end of the line.

"Great, I'll text the details. I need to go, break's about to end. Stay out of trouble, Jack."

"Always do."

The line went dead. Almost like a lifeline, it felt. Jack finally felt like he could breathe again. Their little chats never went on too long, but it kept them both sane. Now two old war buddies could share a drink and forget about the situations that put them there. It was the better part of two months wait but in this frame of mind it could fly by. That was all they both hoped as they pocketed their phones and settled into their nights work.


	4. Chapter 4

SOCOM Base, Outside the lockers.  
October 2002, 10:00am

Despite his annoyance in the long term, and it's seeming lack of effect on his arm, Jack forced himself to attend a couple of his physio sessions. By this point, the lack of sensation had advanced to his shoulder, and his control had waned to the point of uselessness. He had taken to wearing his arm in a sling, saved him from looking pathetic with this limp lump of flesh hanging from his left elbow. The General had reassigned him to training, and even with one arm out of commission he could beat some sense into the new meat. CQC basics, standard disarms, field strips. It was fairly menial for him, but his argument was that if he could do it with one arm, and every one of his newbies could too, then they were twice as effective as the last lot of losers to pass through.

His most recent practice session had finished, and having dismissed his troops, Jack made his way down the halls. His physiologist was apparently waiting in the sickbay. Irritating little shit, but he was good at his job... Or so Jack had been told, he couldn't feel it either way. Rounding the drab corners, he came face to face with one General Santiago, sporting a smile so thin one could hardly tell it was there.

"Krauser. Tenderised any more privates?"

"Just McDonnels, but I doubt the poor bastard was using them anyway." It seems the General's attitude to Jack had warmed since the firing range as the smile on his widened into something more genuine. "And before you bust _my_ balls, I'm on the way to the sickbay now, so if you have something to say you're welcome to walk with me."

"Very well. It is fairly important." The General about-faced and walked alongside his colleague. "You've taken to your new duties like a duck to water. I've heard nothing but good things."

"I don't really know how to half-ass things, sir." He sidled to keep his slung arm from bumping a desk-sergeant sprinting past the pair. "I'm good at this, General. You shouldn't be surprised."

"Watch it, I can still bump you down a rank, soldier. Although I suppose you've warranted a return to your old grade. Well done, Major."

Jack stopped in his step. He looked at his superior, eyebrow raised, face taut in confusion. "I... I'm honoured, sir. You aren't pulling my leg?"

The General smirked. "Not at all. Krauser, you needed humbling. You're a good soldier, one of my best, and I've seen you thirst to prove yourself useful since you turned up here in your greens. But you needed to know your place."

Jack kept walking, taking in his superiors comments with a breath. "With all due respect sir, I found my place when I was allowed to do something resembling what I've always been capable at. You benched me when there wasn't any need."

The General gave an amused, noncommittal noise. "Touché, Major." Wow. Jack never expected to get one over on a commanding officer without being on the practice range. "You will have to forgive me, but I judged based on the information we had. Seeing that medical report, I didn't want to risk that unknown tissue sample in your arm reacting to anything in a combat situation."

Jack's heart skipped.

Unknown tissue sample in your arm.

_In your arm._

He grasped the General's shoulder, wrenching him around to face him. "What sample in my arm?"

Santiago's eyes darted between the hand on his shoulder and the desperate face of his soldier, utterly baffled. "You were supposed to be told this after your preliminary scans months ago, what's going on, Major?"

His voice was earnest. This wasn't conscious deception, that was honest confusion met with confusion. Krauser's mind was instantly swimming through his memories since he returned to base, could he have missed something? Months ago, from the scans he had requested, the Doctor had told him there wasn't any-

That's it. The Doctor.

Jack broke into a sprint. The General yelled after him from the dust, but he wasn't listening, there was only one person he wanted to listen to, and she had better be telling the truth when he got there.

The door to the sickbay slammed open like a gunshot, nearly buckling under Krauser's boot. He rounded only a single corner before he saw the telltale length of ebony hair, apparently absorbed in her clipboard.

"YOU!" Jack bellowed in rage. He didn't even wait to catch her attention, with but a moment he flicked one of his throwing knives from his belt. Having just come from combat practice, the knives were merely blunt plastic. That didn't stop him throwing it with enough force to leave a dent in the drywall two inches from the doctors face. She stopped, no sound, and turned to face the hulking soldier with an unreadable look on her face. Krauser had no mind to analyse it.

"What the hell are you playing at!?" Was the most coherent thing he could muster. The doctor sighed in frustration, of all things. Like an angry mound of muscle screaming at her was merely an inconvenience.

"Is something the matter with your treatment so far, Major Krauser?"

"You damn well know somethings the matter. Unknown foreign material, still in my GODDAMN ARM!" A couple of the wounded soldiers began peering around the doorframes, and another pair of heavy footfalls rounded the corner confirmed that the General had finally joined the festivities.

"Calm yourself!... Major, you have.... you have no right to... to talk to... Oh good God..." The general could barely talk though heavy panting. Too much time behind the desk and forgetting his cardio.

The Doctor had no trouble picking up his slack. "We have been analysing samples we took from the material and we had concluded that whatever is in there is purely benign tiss-"

"You told me there was _nothing_ to be found. Just scar tissue and nerve damage, that was all you told me!"

The General had now stood straight, breath regained. "This was all in the reports I received, why was this not passed along to Major Krauser?"

"Sir, this was all covered in our initial talks, I discussed this all at length with Major Krauser, I... I don't quite know where this is coming from." Evidently she had practice at talking down the agitated.

Frankly agitated didn't come close to describing Jack's current mood. "Bullshit. I know what I heard, I know what you said."

"You were quite incensed during that appointment too, if you'll recall. If you want I can retrieve the report I read to you in that meeting, it may spark your memory." Another flawless riposte, delivered in that calm, almost condescending tone. Jack wanted to punch a hole in something. He twitched his head to the side, a passive agreement for her to fetch her proof.

As she disappeared into her office, the General turned to Jack with concern in his eyes. "Major, I shouldn't be hearing two different stories between doctor and patient."

Jack spoke in a low tone. No ambiguity. "I swear, on everything we both hold sacred, that she's not spoken a word of truth here. The arm has been the bane of my goddamn life since I came home, I'm not about to skip out on these kinds of details."

Santiago's face turned solemn. He nodded. "I believe you. But I need to look at the facts. We will get to the bottom of this."

The Raven-haired Doctor returned, practically thrusting a wad of papers into Jack's good hand. The forms were dated from July, and all of them supported what the doctor had been saying. Jack's grip tightened on the papers, recalling that he hadn't even looked at these after his appointment, instead opting for the dramatic exit. But none of these details matched what he had been told, he was sure.

"You still don't remember?" There it was again. Condescension concealed as caring, like she was talking to a child.

"I can't remember what didn't happen, Doctor." Though in truth, with her claims and the General standing over his shoulder, he couldn't ignore the creeping doubt clutching at the situation.

The doctor sighed. "I was afraid of this, after seeing the result of your Psyche Evaluation." Jack stared daggers at her, Santiago merely cocked his head in inquest. "You have... You are a textbook case of an inferiority complex. You are convinced that you're not good enough, that you're useless, that this work is the only thing you have ever been good at. Combine that with the onset of mistreated Post-Traumatic Stress, and... Well frankly it's not unusual to see your mind has twisted the narrative. You took everything I said and made it about how hopeless both you and your situation are. Its not your fault, its just what the brain does when it struggles to believe anything good about itself."

Jack's teeth were set so hard he could taste copper. It read off perfectly. _The crippled soldier had made everything up so he could feel sorry for himself_. The worst of it was that it made sense. He wanted to spit out every denial in his vocabulary, but the words wouldn't come. Stuck behind anger, distrust, even fear.

_Because you know that she's right_. No. She can't be, I'm sane. I've seen some of the most hellish shit on the planet, but I'm sane. I'm sane. I'm in control. She has to be lying.

_But she's not. She has no reason to lie to you in the first place, let alone now. You're but a tick and a cross on a clipboard to her_. That doesn't mean I'm crazy!

_You don't know that._

"Major? Are you alright?"

The General spoke in a soft tone so utterly alien to him that even he looked surprised at himself. Deeply inhaling, Jack mustered some defence. "Are you calling my perception of reality into question, Doctor?"

"In certain situations, yes." Short and blunt. Probably for the best, considering Krauser's reeling mind. "You're subconsciously eager to believe the worst of yourself. When it comes to treatment, that's not exactly helping."

Jack couldn't help himself scoffing. "You are so full of shit."

"I didn't want to recommend surgery while your nervous system was still compromised, and the foreign tissue in the arm remains benign." She staunchly continued. "But if itself is the cause then it's like I told you; it may be easier to accept this as the new status quo."

Jack didn't say anything. Even if he wanted to, he had nothing. She had shut down every argument possible. He was even buying into what felt like his own smear campaign, though he supposed that alone just proved her point. He turned to the General, seeing what the impartial third party was making of this. He looked grim, to say the least, despite attempting a reassuring hand on Jack's shoulder.

"...resume your duties, Major. Put this at the back of your mind, I will make all the necessary considerations." No commitment on which side he believed. Perfect. The soldier wordlessly nodded and walked away. He thought he knew himself but one throwaway comment had ended up calling his very sanity was into question.

Rounding a corner, he took a deep breath, trying to follow the General's orders. So much simpler to give advice than to follow it. But he had the mindlessness of today's physiotherapy to aid the process at least. Knocking on the door, he surrendered his higher functions for the rest of the day. Autopilot would just about do.

By the time Jack had regained his senses, he was sat on his bunk. He had uncovered his contraband phone and was staring at the screen. A single text, not from any number he recognised. Not a telemarketer, not Leon, certainly not his mother. But this was enough to wrench his mind back into the drivers seat and take it in.

"Jack Krauser. I have a lucrative opportunity for a man of your talents. Everybody needs a little helping hand."


	5. Chapter 5

Long Shot Bar, not far from the Base.  
November 2002, 6:25pm

Jack couldn't stop fumbling over his phone. He'd been sat at the bar for a half hour now, Leon hadn't given him a specific time so he felt it best to make himself comfortable. Unfortunately, idle minds had restoked idle thoughts, and his passing correspondence with the mysterious messenger was all the Major could focus on.

After receiving said text a few weeks ago, Jack initially disregarded it as some kind of randomly sent sales pitch, or Kennedy's idea of a sick joke. Better judgement failed him eventually, and he messaged back simply: "How did you get this number?"

The response was a day later: "Unimportant. I know your job security is eroding these recent weeks. I wish to provide to you an alternative." Jack knew that nobody talked like this in text form. His own mother was pushing 60 and even she threw in the odd sideways-smiley-face and never wrote out the full word 'you' if she could help it. Despite that, this person knew he doubted his position in the army. And if they knew, was there perhaps a kernel of possibility in Jacks paranoid thoughts?

"What do you know about my job? Careers don't get opened up by text message." Jack should have just ignored it, or left it at a blunt "Not Interested." He bitten the bait twice. Two days later came the one that started reeling him in.

"Then I am delighted to prove you wrong. Tell me what you can do. Tell me what these reports should be saying about Jack Krauser"

Was this really happening? Any soldier would be cautious, maybe even terrified, to know their profiles were on a strangers desk, perhaps being thumbed through by some shady G-man cutting deals about their future they would never know about. Those thoughts couldn't be further from Jack's mind. As far as he was concerned, they were liking what they were reading. They reached out to him. An edge of paranoia kept him sceptical, but he nonetheless obliged. Omitting any mention of BOWs or crucial state secrets, Jack essentially gave his resume. Maybe this was some elaborate hoax, but nothing in the information he had given could be used to hurt him or anyone else. Worst that could happen was his termination from the US Army, and with the way he felt it could end up anyway... He could at least fall asleep thinking that somewhere, if not here, he could be useful.

It had been a week since their last correspondence. Jack usually left the phone in his quarters, but he made an exception for his days off. "Goddamn, they know how to keep a man waiting" the Major muttered as he took another sip of his beer.

"Now now, Jack. Anticipation is the better part of pleasure"

The warm familiarity of the voice dulled the shock that nearly sprayed a mouthful of beer on the student bartender. Near choking down the bitter liquid, Jack turned to his friend with a smirk. There he was, Leon Kennedy, his youthful face split into a wide smile. Not quite as scrawny as he remembered, a little more muscle filling out his svelte figure, but still the man he'd fought alongside.

"Figures you'd still know how to make an entrance, comrade." Jack stood from his stool, shaking the agents hand before pulling him into a hug, or as much of one as he could give with one working arm.

Pulling apart and leaning on the bar, Leon seemed almost shocked. "Didn't take you for a hugger, buddy. Thought the military was meant to beat that outta you."

"Bah, it's not like I'm cuddling up to every scrawny runt I work a mission with."

"Aww, you did miss me." Leon's tone hinted at mocking, but seeing the smile on Jack's face he didn't press it, leaving it at the usual friendly ball-busting.

Jack beckoned the bartender over. "Go grab a seat or a booth if you want, first drink's on me."

With a pat on the shoulder, Leon made his way down the bar to the cushier seats deeper inside. Jack noted that not once had Leon's gaze lingered on his slung arm. Not even a mention. He just understood. For all the grief it had given him over the past months, it was a welcome relief. Grasping both his and Leon's drink in his hand, he made to follow him when another familiar figure waved at him.

"Krauser? Hey, didn't think I'd see you out tonight!" This was Chang, one of the medical officers who was in charge of Jacks physiotherapy sessions. Taller fellow, but stick thin and not possessing much in the way of presence. The guy had handled Jack's arm more than he had since the incident.

"Uh, hiya Chang, good to see you." Jack wasn't exactly pleased to see him, but no reason to spoil someone else's night off.

Chang's smile faltered a little as he stammered to speak again. "Look I-I know this is your night off, but... Well you haven't been to your past few physiotherapy sessions, and-"

"Ah." Jack grunted. Since the incident with the Doctor and the fallout from that, he had stopped going despite his regular appointments.

"Yeah, 'ah'. Look it's not gonna work if you don't -"

Krauser held his drink-filled hand up to stop him. "Look, Chang, I get it. Sorry I've been skipping out, I will sort all this out another time. Right now, I'm here to have a drink with a friend I haven't seen in a very long time. Just for tonight, could you drop it?"

Chang's face seemed to shrink from the rebuff. Jack had put it as delicately as he could, but some things couldn't be avoided. He merely nodded meekly and waved Jack off as he passed by. He kept on stepping, this wasn't the time to lose momentum.

Leon had found cubby-hole to sink into, his jacket tossed onto the couch next to him. Placing the beers on the table, Jack slid onto the seat opposite him, relaxing properly for the first time in what felt like years.

"Thanks. The federal types I'm stuck with at the moment aren't big on social drinking. Not big on social anything to be honest. It's all work with them." He took a good draft from the bottle before actually inspecting the bottle in his grasp. Evidently the taste wasn't his usual brand.

Jack chuckled. "Sounds like a gaggle of sexless robots. However do you cope?"

"You say that, you haven't seen some of their spouses. Apparently lots of husbands and wives are into authority figures." Leon nodded at the eyebrow Jack was raising at him. "Hey, I know there's a time and place. Sometimes, game just has to recognise game."

"Maybe I should start introducing myself as 'Major Krauser', see whose bed that gets me into."

"No one in my department, I promise you that. Everyone's taken who I know. Although... There is the big boss. Guy named Simmons, but taking one look at him... Well who knows what kind of shit he's into. Not that I'm judging or anything, just... Yeah."

"It's fine, comrade, it's fine." Jack sensed Leon had needed this time off with a friend as much as he had. He couldn't fathom the kinds of trials he was going through. That had to be remedied. "So, in all seriousness, how are you holding up?"

The agent looked momentarily astonished before slipping a smirk. "And here's everyone saying men can't confront their feelings"

"Technically, I'm confronting yours. And you are dancing around an answer."

After a moment, Leon gave a deep sigh. "Surviving, I guess that's the best word for it. The job is good, the pay is comfy, and I can cross 'meeting the president' off my bucket list." He started absently swaying his drink a round in his hand. "Still, ever since Raccoon, I've been shuffled from department to department and never really allowed to just... Y'know, settle."

"Like, "settle down" settle?" Jack asked, confused.

Leon practically spluttered in response "Noooo, nonono, not like that, just staying in one place long enough to lay roots and actually live a little. Maybe not feel like a faceless cog in a machine it doesn't comprehend."

His face sank like it suddenly felt the pull of gravity. Krauser took a single thoughtful swig from his bottle. "Comrade, you know you're more important than that. You've got experience that no one else-"

He was cut off as Leon waved his speech away. "Jack, stop. I appreciate the concern, but I didn't come down here to have you play psychiatrist for me. I'm seeing a shrink, she's actually helping me a lot with this stuff."

Nodding slowly as their smiles returned, the two returned to their drinks. The time seemed to fly as they talked, and the drinks emptied slower and slower as the minutes turned to hours. Jack had forgotten his smile for so long it felt like the ache in his cheeks would never fade. He began hoping dawn tomorrow simply wouldn't happen and he could forget about his life for as long as he needed to.

Hours had passed, not that the pair were too drunk to notice. As Jack shuffled down the seat to grab refills, he knocked into an earlier irritant from the night.

"Krauser! Sorry man, sorry" Chang quickly stuttered out, stumbling back to his feet like a snap.

"Not your fault, sorry I didn't look." Jacks aid dryly as he awkwardly slipped back into his seat. "Surprised to see you still here, Chang."

Chang started scratching his neck, refusing to look him in the eye. "I can stay out and drink if I want, same as you."

The Major remained unconvinced. "Uh-huh."

"Friend from the base, Jack?" Leon injected. Jack suspected he'd read the room and wanted to help speed it along.

"Of a sort. This is Chang, he's in charge of my physiotherapy treatments for my... For the arm." And there it was; the last thing he wanted to talk about was the absolute centre of attention.

"Well... I would be, if he ever showed up." Chang spoke trying to make it sound so casual. That was probably what made the edge on what Leon said next all the more biting.

"What."

Disappointment? Anger? Confusion? Jack couldn't tell. It just hurt.

Chang continued "That's... Okay, that's why I stuck around. I saw you were here and... I just wanted to keep an eye on you"

Jack shifted around, turning away from him to sit straight at the table. His sentence leaked through gritted teeth. "Chang, you need to leave. Now."

The meek little man had taken his time, but he had found an ounce of courage. "Krauser, I know you don't care, but you're my patient. If you're not letting me help you-"

"I SAID **FUCK OFF**."

Like a human needle scratch, the bar fell silent. The colour drained from Chang's face, his moment of courage crashing before him. Leon said nothing, resting his head on his hands, looking at Jack. He wouldn't return his gaze, he was focussing on his beer bottle to keep from casting a look of blind murder at Chang.

"I'm sorry." Came the barest of hushed mutters from Chang. Even his footfalls as he left could barely pierce the silence hanging over the bar.

It felt like ages before the chatter clouded the room again. Longer still before Leon finally said something. "Why didn't you tell me anything?"

"Kennedy, please. Don't start this conversation."

"Why not? There clearly some things you need to say, and I don't think there's anyone else you would say it to."

Jack ran his hand through his hair. "It wasn't working. I stopped going. How much use is it to keep pressing on with something futile?"

Leon scoffed before finishing the last of his drink. "I don't buy it. Futile situations you can deal with."

"Yeah, when I have a gun in my hand." Jack felt hot. Angry. Nothing he wanted to feel right now. "Now they won't even let me have that. I'll be lucky if I see fieldwork ever again because of a single crippling blow. It's the only thing I have ever been good at, and if this keeps me out of it? What use am I to anyone?"

Leon's face was stern, firm yet understanding. He wasn't going to relent on this. "Use? You're not some tool to be thrown away, Jack. But you have to accept what is, what isn't, and the help you're given."

Help. Like some Invalid. Like he couldn't fight for himself. "If I'm weak enough to let this stop me? I should be discarded. You've been through what I have... Hell, you've had it worse, with Raccoon City. And you've come through it stronger, tougher, intact."

"Not without some give. There's a reason I'm seeing a shrink. There's a reason I wanted a night out with a friend. If there's something in your head, some looming spectre of 'usefulness' that's holding you back, then it's not impossible. I want to help you be you."

There's that word again. Help. "I don't need help. I need a solution."

"You won't find it by cutting other people out of the equation." Leon put it bluntly. "Look, your arm... Maybe it won't heal. Maybe whatever material is in there isn't going to let us fix it, but we can exhaust every possibility until we know for certain."

"Knowing for certain would definitely be a step up." Suddenly, what Leon had said processed more thoroughly in his head. Material? "Wait. How did you know what is wrong with my arm? I've never told you."

Leon took a deep breath, sucking air through his teeth. "I pulled some weight, got your XO to pass a few notes to me regarding your situation. Just to look out for you, didn't think you like me snooping, so... Sorry for that."

Even Leon Kennedy had known whilst he had been kept in the dark about his own medical condition. _Or everyone was on the same page and you're selectively beating yourself down_.

"It's... It's okay. Thanks for caring" Leon looked astonished. All of Jack's anger had evaporated in an instant, replaced with a crushing doubt he struggled not to show on the surface. _Good thing he offered to help. You won't even know if he truly said it in an hour_.

Jack shifted to the edge of his seat and stood from the table. "Sorry the evening went south."

Leon scrambled between his seat and the table, standing before him. "Hey, don't get like that. I had fun. You had fun, I think you'll admit. Just... Talk to me, okay? I didn't give you that phone number for nothing." His tone was softer, more caring. His worry seemed genuine.

Jack nodded, slow and solemn. "I'll... Do what I can. I need you to promise me something." Leon leaned in, almost eager to aid his friend. "Recently I'm finding it... Hard, to trust my senses and my memories. I'm thinking things that don't match what I've been told. If I end up gone completely out of my gourd, I need you to remind me of what's real. I'm... I feel like I'm toeing the line right now, and I don't want to face the prospect of walking it. I trust you, Comrade. Even if I can't trust myself."

Leon placed a hand on his shoulder. "It won't come to that. We will find a way. Keep in touch and I'll do the same." A smile returned to his face, though not the self-confident smirk Jack was used to seeing. Something warmer.

Jack took the agents free hand and shook it. "It's a promise." The two walked together towards the exit, Leon pulling on his jacket to guard against the cool night air the pair stepped into. They both waved down a cab, Leon bundling in first. Jack stood outside, leaning on the door.

"You don't want a ride back to the base?" The younger agent quizzed.

"Nah, it's a short walk. I can take in some of the night air, y'know?" Leon shrugged, giving a quick mock salute to his friend.

"Take care of yourself, Kennedy." He shut the taxi door, waving the car off as it pulled into the road. He watched it drive out of sight, letting the cold air fill his lungs. The events of the night heavy on his shoulders, Jack turned and made for the walk home down a road of poorly maintained street lamps and barely a house to speak of.

Under the flickering lights, he felt a vibration in his pocket. He fumbled briefly for his phone with a numb set of a fingers, blasting his eyes with the screens backlight when flipped it open. After he had adjusted, he squinted to read the message in the darkness.

"Well done, you have passed the interview stage. Meet at the Helipad in 6 days from now at 1400 hours. There we will see if you have what is needed."

Jack's breath stuck in his throat. The time had come to see where the Major would fine his role.


	6. Chapter 6

SOCOM Base, Helipad  
December 2002, 1:50pm

For the past week, no one in the base could place Jack Krauser. If you had asked them, they would mention seeing him in the mess hall or passing him in the corridor, but no one could tell you when. Everyone would say how odd it was to see Major Krauser just bleeding into the background, but no one questioned it.

Little did they suspect what a man beneath notice could be doing. Stood in the open air of the Helipad, it was all Jack could do to not scream and shout at someone, anyone in the base to stop him from stepping into the unknown. Yet, in spite of it all, he kept silent. Maybe he hoped this mysterious meeting would give him new purpose, something solid to believe in when he couldn't believe in himself or his ability. Or maybe this was all a long con, just someone's plan to get him on an exposed rooftop and lodge a snipers bullet on his skull.

Those fantasies dissipated with the telltale whir of helicopter blades in the air, growing slowly louder as the machine crossed the cold, midday sky.

Jack steeled himself as the chopper descended. It's side panel was already open, but he couldn't see inside. It bounced slightly and it made contact with the helipad, rotors slowing slightly but not stopping. The pilot intended to take backe off soon, that much was clear.

"No turning back." The Major muttered to himself as he forced himself to step forward. Footfall after footfall until choppers door. The last true stepping off point.

As he pulled himself into the bay of the helicopter, he was greeted by two men. One in the pilots seat, and the other sat on the collapsible canvas seating, leant forward slightly with his fingers latticed neatly under his chin. His expression was unreadable, in truth he barely seemed to acknowledge the large man who had just climbed aboard his helicopter. Dressed head to toe in black, immaculate shirt and pants, sporting a long coat over the top, and a pair of sunglasses wrapped around his eyes. Jack could swear he could make out a faint red circle almost glowing behind each lens, following him as he took a seat.

The man finally spoke. He spoke calmly over the helicopter rotors, like he asking his butler for something from a few rooms away. "Major Krauser. Do you know who I am?"

Jack considered himself carefully. "I have my suspicions." The look of him wasn't familiar, but he knew some key descriptors from certain military lists were certainly matching up.

The man reached down beside him, pulling up a small black briefcase and resting it on his lap. "Then allow me to illuminate you." He withdrew a slender plastic tube from the case, gently rolling it over his hand with his thumb. "I am the man who can give you your life back."

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the tube over to Jack, catching it effortlessly. Looking further, it appeared to resemble a hypodermic needle, but with a far different and more modern injection mechanism than he had ever seen before. The fluid inside was barely clouded, looking almost grainy.

"Inject that through the scar tissue." He had woven his fingers together again, the little red circles glowing through his shades focuses entirely on him. "Then we can talk.... Business."

Jack could scarcely believe he was buying into this. A stranger flies into his home and puts a panacea in his hand, and he was supposed to trust this? But this wasn't any stranger, and Jack was more than aware of how many traits this man was sharing with a prominent member of the militaries wanted list.

_Even less reason to trust him_ , a part of him thought. _But if this is him, there's no one better in the field_ , said another part. _He has no reason to waste time on such an elaborate way to kill someone, let alone me_.

_What do you truly have to lose?_

With one breath to brace himself, Jack drove the needle through the marred skin that had been pierced so long ago now. There wasn't even any pain, like he'd driven a steak knife into a block of meatloaf. Pressing the mechanism on the casing, the fluid slowly drained into his arm. Jack leant back, holding the needle in, to take another breath. Suddenly, the needle appeared to jerk itself out of the wound, slipping from Jack's grip and skittering across the helicopter bay.

The man in black picked up the syringe from the floor, placing a cap on the tip. As Jack begun to hear the rotors speed up again, he felt some kind of sensation in his long numbed arm. Nothing focused, just heat, growing increasingly intense, turning into pain. His vision began to falter and unfocus, his good arm frantically gripping at the other on a desperate attempt to stop the searing heat.

"It will pass. Focus" was all the man in black said. Struggling to maintain his composure, Jack acquiesced, pulling all his attention into his arm. After some sharper spikes of pain wracked his dead nerves, it began to subside. Jack opened his eyes again, and saw that his hand had formed a fist for the first time in months. He opened and clenched it, freely. It wasn't complete, but it had returned, and more would come, surely.

Jack looked over at the man, still unable to read him, but more than certain of his suspicions of this mysterious benefactor. "Very impressive, Mr Wesker."

His companion raised a bemused eyebrow. "Well, I haven't wasted my time on your average military simpleton, it seems. Good." He placed the briefcase from his lap back on the floor. "But now you must do something for me."

"Name it" Jack gave simply, aware of the choppers increasing height over the base. It wouldn't be Albert Wesker if he wasn't in control of as many variables as possible.

"I have need of someone like you in my organisation. If the United States Army isn't willing to make the most of you, then I most certainly will."

Jack hesitated, thoughts suddenly pulled back to Operation Javier. "What makes you think I'm willing to do this kind of work?

"Because you stepped onto my helicopter, Major." Wesker countered. "I can keep you taking dangerous bioweapons out of the hands of people who would misuse them. I can give your services back to the world." He held his hand towards Jack, indicating his newly feeling and effective arm.

He flexed his fingers as Wesker spoke. The snake had certainly offered him temptation. "And I suppose misuse doesn't fall under what you've done?"

"Your hand is my proof." His tone was offhand, almost trivial. "T-Virus, G-Virus, T-Veronica, they can all create monsters, but like any tool properly applied, they can become so much more."

Jack nodded, still habitually flexing his fingers. "Say I agree to this, to retrieving your viral samples... Who am I expected to kill?"

Wesker exhaled sharply, almost huffing. The questions were ebbing at his patience. "Anyone that I tell you to. Anyone who opposes us."

To Jack it sounded so grand, yet so simple. The machinations of a mind like Wesker's undoubtably reached further and wider than he could comprehend, but the idea of following orders, fighting for something bigger than himself, being able to find himself again in that chaos... It had an indescribable luster to it, something that maybe no one outside of Jack Krauser understood properly. Nobody except the man sat before him, and offering him that very lifeline on a silver platter.

Jack said nothing, but there was a look in his eye, a twitch in his brow. Something that Wesker could read like poetry. He pressed a small device on his wrist and whispered into it, unintelligible under the din of helicopters rotor blades. He turned back to Jack. "Evidently you need time. I understand. But you don't need me to tell you that there is nothing left for you at this base."

That was a lie. SOCOM had given Jack some great years, more than a few incredible friends, and given him drive and a purpose to his life. But all that ran through his mind right now was that they had also ripped him away from that life and concealed any potential ways to get it back. He could've spat out the door at them.

"You're right" was all he could muster saying.

The chopper blades began spinning faster, readying for their departure as the climb evened off. From below, Jack heard a bang, similar to a gunshot, as something shot into the roof of the helicopter. Some kind of hook wrapped into the railing above them as the cord trailing from it became taught. Jack took to his feet, grasping the overhead railing for support, whilst Wesker seemed ultimately unperturbed. The shrill whir of a motor came closer and closer, bringing through the door of the helicopter a woman.

Jack pulled his knife from his belt as the woman took a step to steady herself from the sudden ascent. In one look, he stalled. Long raven hair, white coat, thin rectangular framed glasses...

"Doctor?" His voice thick with confusion.

The woman looked at him, her face familiar but her expression completely foreign to him. He had known her to be stern, rarely smiling, focused to the point of detachment, but this look could only be described as contempt.

"And to think, you never asked me my name." She untangled the hook from the canopy, letting it reel into some kind of grapple gun, whilst talking to Wesker. "The distraction went perfectly. They will have only just noticed a presence in their airspace with their radar out."

"Your identity was not compromised?"

A smirk graced the mystery woman's face. "Officially I resigned there two days ago. They will find and forget the right paperwork in no time."

Wesker simply nodded. Jack had innumerable questions. "What the hell is going on here?"

The woman turned to Wesker, who seemed weary as he adjusted his glasses. Taking this as passive acquiescence, she reached behind her ears, detaching and pulling free her hair extensions and tossing her glasses. "Ada Wong. I have been keeping tabs on your condition for our mutual ally here. He's shown a great interest in your... Potential."

In one fell swoop, it had turned from an opportunity into a conspiracy. Jack gripped his fingers harder to steady himself as the helicopter dipped forward, accelerating. "You were working for him? I should have known you were lying to the General."

Ada sported a thin smile as she shrugged the lab coat from her shoulders. "Krauser, I lie to everyone."

Jack stepped forward, anger growling in his voice. "Then what lie did you tell me?"

She stood firm, unthreatened. "You figure it out."

With a sudden roar, Jack swung his knife for her midsection. Gripping the railings, Ada pulled herself up to dodge to the strike, winding herself over his head to land deftly behind him. Jack had never seen someone move like this in an inflight helicopter. She rammed an elbow into his upper back, but struck nerves that hadn't yet been awoken by Wesker's miracle elixir. The Major barely flinched as he spun around, reversing the grip on his blade, and slammed her into the wall, pinning her neck between his forearm and the tip of his knife. She looked more irritated at herself for a sloppy mistake than outright scared.

This was enough to motivate Wesker to stand, pulling a handgun from his coat and levelling it with Jack's temple. "I didn't take this risk today to lose assets. Step away, now."

Sanity gripping him enough to realise he was outmatched, he took a single solid step back. In spite of his caution, Ada took her chance, grabbing his knife at the hilt and striking his elbow, ripping the weapon from his grip. Unarmed and unequipped, he still found Wesker's pistol trained squarely on him.

"Ms Wong has been undercover to give me information on you. After that business in South America I knew there had to be something more from you medically. I didn't expect for you to have the potential as an enforcer as well."

Jack swallowed his pride. It wouldn't be the last time. "Then you won't shoot me, right? You wouldn't give me my arm back and go through all this just to dump my carcass out of a chopper."

For the first time since he had stepped into the helicopter, Jack saw a smile curl Wesker's lips. "Don't presume to know me, Major." He reached his free hand into his coat, pulling out the syringe containing Jack's miracle cure, now partially filled with a dark red fluid. "This was the endgame. A sample from you. Caused by an infectee of T-Veronica that had been mutated over the course of years, now harboured in the relative stability of your body. That was all I set out to acquire. The enzymes cutting away the infection seizing your nervous system will erode in moments, I lose nothing."

Jack was in disbelief. "You... You can't take this away from me again." His voice was cracking. He was being used and discarded again. The cycle was absolute, despite everything he had given to change it.

Wesker stepped closer, forcing Jack into the doorway. He placed the barrel of his gun under Jack's chin. "Unless you can give me a reason."

The ultimatum. Jack's breathing stopped. His lungs wouldn't answer his need for air, his mind was swimming in hurt and fear. This one instant was going to rob him for everything. Even the meagre, unfulfilling life he had left after the incident was going to disappear, unless he could say the right thing, right now.

Of course, the right thing would see him shot without the slightest care in the world. Wesker wouldn't hear of mercy, or defiance. He cared about things he could use. A conversation crossed Jack's mind, something thrown about casually over the phone a couple of months ago. One little detail that had set his mind at ease over some lingering troubles. Now it was the penultimate moral compromise that could keep him alive.

_A research centre in Philly._

 

"I can give you Manuela Hidalgo."

 

No bullet shredded his skull. The sentence hung in the air, deafening even over the rotors. Ada looked perplexed. Wesker's eyes, if just for a moment, widened. He had made him consider.

"Hildalgo." He said, thoughtfully. "Javier's daughter?"

Krauser swallowed. "Yes."

Wesker was glaring at him behind his glasses, but it wasn't of malice, nor anger. The closest Krauser could figure, it was something akin to greed. "And you would retrieve her, intact?"

Once, a part of him would prevent the completion of this betrayal and take his death with a modicum of dignity. He wasn't sure when that part of himself had withered. "It would be my personal mission, sir."

The gun fell from under his chin. A full breath finally filled his lungs. Wesker stepped aside, letting him go back to his seat. Ada looked somewhat shocked that he had talked his way out of that. Krauser sat, feeling his legs would have given out underneath him. Having looked out the door, the base was still visible, but approaching the horizon steadily.

However, Wesker's gun remained unholstered. "You follow my orders to your absolute fullest, and you will remain useful to me." He checked the magazine, reinserting it and pulling the slide. With the barest hesitation, he pointed the pistol squarely at the headrest of their pilot and pulled the trigger. As the helicopter began veering to the side, it's descent assured, he grabbed ahold of the overhead railings. "I suggest you hold on."

 

\---

 

The crash site was visible from the base, even after the wind had carried away the black column of smoke. Officially, the accident was classified as an attempted kidnapping, involving Major Jack Krauser. The fire caused by the crash had spread to nearby forestry, meaning by the time fire crew reached the epicentre of the crash, any and all organic evidence had been burnt to a crisp. The surrounding area was combed for weeks and not a trace of the Major or his suspected captor were found. Just one body, charred beyond all possible identification, with a bullet in its skull.

Some of the younger recruits like to see it as a mystery. The older ones, those who knew him well, view it more grimly. No one knows the truth of the events that resulted in that crash except Jack Krauser himself, and as every good soldier who has lost a close comrade in the field of battle will tell you; Dead men tell no tales.

**Author's Note:**

> Just as a warning, these chapters like double in size every time I write them. This wasn't planned, please bear with that some of these are more setup than payoff.


End file.
